


A New Experiment

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Handcuffs, Light Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following The Gravediggers, Emma and Steed experiment with a bit of bondage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Experiment

“Steed?”

Emma had not felt so nervous around him before, but then she had never asked him to do anything out of the ordinary before either. Yet it seemed the right time. The business at the railroad tracks badly unnerved her. She had been trapped, trussed up like a damsel in an old serial. And yet…she had to admit that there was a strange, not unpleasant intensity about the danger. She knew that somehow Steed would save her. She knew that he would be there just in the nick of time, and she recalled feeling a sort of dreadful thrill at the closeness of death, and the relief of release. Release with him. She was self-aware enough to know that it was sexual, but she was not quite certain how she felt about it. Or how he would.

They were stretched full on her bed, still fully clothed but unlikely to remain so. His hands were searching her, brushing over her leather-clad body and occasionally exerting pressure, teasing her, the leather moving beneath his hand like a second skin. The solid shape of his broad shoulders beneath his coat, with muscles shifting as he moved, the hard body she knew lay concealed beneath, that was all deliciously enticing.

So Emma did not really want to interrupt what was happening, but somehow she felt she needed to ask him for what she wanted. She hoped she knew what she wanted.

“Steed?” she repeated.

“Hmm?” His dreamy response rumbled against the skin of her throat.

“I want to try something.”

He raised his head, his eyes already hooded and growing dark. “Like what?”

She wiggled out from under his arm and crossed the room to her dresser. She had learned to trust him, in and out of bed, but it still felt embarrassing. She took out the handcuffs – ones she’d been issued with when she completed basic training – then returned to the bed, tossing them down between them as casually as she was able.

She was convinced that Steed’s eyebrows were going fly off his face if they rose any higher.

“Don’t look so shocked, Steed.”

“It’s, uh, rather surprising,” he said, turning the handcuffs over in his hand with a snap. “What brought this on?”

“Today, at the train tracks.”

She hoped she wouldn’t have to explain the whole thought process. He was still looking at the cuffs with a vague sort of distrust.

“And you’d like to …”

“Use them. With you.”

She didn’t look at him. “Steed, I … I was frightened, you know. Very frightened, but I also knew – somehow – that you would be there and so there was a part of me that … enjoyed it. Does that seem strange to you?”

It took him a moment to reply.

“No, not particularly. Adrenaline, excitement, knowing that I was coming after you … that makes some sense.” He brought his eyes up to hers. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. He gave her a gentle push to the edge of the bed.

“Take your clothes off.”

For a year they’d been together, and for a year he’d never simply sat and watched her undress. But he did not move when she stood up off the bed. He remained reclining on the bed as she stripped. His eyes only left her face once or twice to wander over her body with the same burning desire mingled by respect that moved and aroused her. It was oddly stimulating to watch him watching her.

Fully naked, she stepped towards him. Steed slid to the end of the bed and wound his arms around her waist, drawing her into a tight embrace. He kissed her stomach. His coat’s rough fabric brushed against her skin as his teeth scraped over her abdomen. Then, in a quick move that spoke of excellent military training, he turned her over onto the bed.

She heard cool chink of metal on metal as he slipped the cuffs through the metalwork of the headboard. Kneeling beside her, he locked both her hands in so that her arms were stretched above her head. The cuffs were cold against the skin of her wrists. As Steed moved away, his eyes met hers.

“Comfortable?” he asked, oddly solicitous given the circumstances. 

Emma nodded, feeling her breathing increase as he set the key on the side table, far out of her reach. She wondered what he was thinking. He rose off the bed and removed his coat and she closed her eyes, testing the pull on her arm muscles, expecting soon to feel the warmth of his skin against hers.

Instead, she felt his hand on her ankle. She opened her eyes to find him wrapping his tie about one foot, securing her to the bed post.

“Steed?” she said.

He looked at her. “Too much?”

She pulled lightly on the tied foot. A stab of fear went through her as she realized that she would be entirely immovable. Then she met his eyes and saw the man who never hurt her, never betrayed her, who had torn apart diabolical lairs to get to her. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, and pushed the waning fear down. 

“Try not to ruin it, eh?” he said. “It’s my old school tie.”

He looked around the room for something with which to secure her other foot.

“My dressing gown’s in the bathroom,” she said, nodding to the door.

A smile pulled at one side of his mouth and then he was gone and back again, carrying the silk cord from the gown.

She considered fighting him for a moment, playing out the fantasy, but then realized that for once she longed to be submissive and trust him, as she’d never trusted any man before. Not that one or two men hadn’t proposed something along these lines, seeing her in black leather and a fast car, but the very idea of playing out their fantasies of what she should be turned her off. Yet with Steed … she wondered if some little part of him had considered this too, and if he’d waited for her to propose it. She would have to ask him at some later date.

Her other leg secured, she now lay spread upon the bed, incapable of much movement. She lifted her head to watch as Steed knelt between her open legs. He was still fully clothed, though in his sleeves and waistcoat, and his eyes had that well known feral glint. He was aroused by the sight of her, she could tell that, but he was also supremely in control of himself. He met her gaze for a moment, then leaned over her, kissing first her abdomen, her stomach, slowly moving up with his warm, working mouth. He was so gentle, so loving, the scrape of his cheek rough as he crept up her body, adoring her. His shirt was soft against her bare skin, the tantalizing warmth of him emanated from beneath. He kissed between her breasts, and across her neck, under her chin, up her arms stretched above her head, avoiding her most erogenous zones. He came to her mouth and pressed a deep kiss there, forcing her mouth open. The intensity increased; her body burned for him. She could feel his hardness against her thigh and she tried to shift to raise her legs around him, but found she could not. Whatever he wanted, whatever he could think to do to her, she would accept it wholeheartedly.

With greater speed, he descended her body, tucking his hands beneath her lower back to lift her up. He kissed her open center, probing into her with his tongue as his fingers traveled down and stroked her wider. She could barely breathe as he kissed her, licked her, touched her as only he had ever touched her. The hands above her head closed, her nails digging into her own palm as he drew her closer and closer to climax. She moaned, imagining him inside her, and pulled on the restraints, rising as best she could against his mouth. He pressed his thumb up inside of her as he kissed her clitoris, accompanied by a few thrusts that were tantalizing and insufficient.

Then suddenly he was gone. She called out for him and rattled the cuffs against the bed. She raised her head and saw him standing, slowly and meticulously taking off his clothes, arranging them as he always did on the chair near the bed. First waistcoat, then shirt, no movement wasted even when he stripped. Somehow the sight of those broad shoulders being bared drove her wild.

“Steed,” she moaned, desperate for him to address her.

“This is what you wanted,” he said, taking off his trousers. “Wait for me.”

She threw her head back, breathing heavily.

He stretched out on top of her, erection rubbing against her, but not entering her. The torture was far from over. He was just beginning.

He took one nipple into his mouth, rubbing at the other with the ball of his thumb. Kissing, flicking, biting at her, using her as a playground for his hands and mouth. He straddled her leg, his hands traveling over her body a little roughly, allowing his curbed power to filter out into his caresses. The whole action stimulated her to the nth degree but he avoided touching her where she most wanted him. It was dreadful, at times, to be with a man so supremely in control of his own body. She could feel his desire to let go and equal unwillingness to let it end. She tried to shift her hips against him, to rub against the leg that was between them.

“Not yet,” he said.

“I can’t stand it,” she moaned.

“You will.”

He kissed her with aggression, biting on her lower lip until she moaned. Then he lowered his mouth to her ear.

“I want to hear you. I want to take you so deeply that you cry out until you’re hoarse. I want your fantasy to pale in comparison.”

Every word made her writhe, his voice rough and deep as he described what he wanted to do to her, and how. His hands held her down, stopping her from even that slightest movement to relieve some of the nearly unbearable tension. He was strong – she had reason to know how strong.

“Steed,” she cried as one hand slid down her body, barely brushing her, then back up again.

“Say my name,” he rasped into her ear. “My proper name.”

“John,” she moaned, obedient.

He reached down again and touched her with two fingers. It took barely a moment until a hot white orgasm surged through her and her body raised off the bed as far as she could. But he did not stop. He lay half on top of her, kissing her, touching her until her convulsions waned. His voice murmured in her ear, telling her how wonderful she was, how beautiful, how much he wanted her, how he wanted to make her feel, how she made him feel.

“No one else has ever done this to you,” he told her, stroking a nipple with the tip of his finger.

“No,” she whispered, incapable of finding more words. Impossibly, her arousal increased. His fingers were not enough. She was desperate to come with him inside of her. She turned her head to look into his eyes – dark, feral, aroused beyond description.

“You’re enjoying this,” she said.

“I am. Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He kissed her, hard. She pulled at her restraints, wanting to break free and grab his head, lock her legs around him, feel his muscles beneath her hands. She half-wished she’d never made the suggestion, but knew that it would not be the same, not if she could touch him. He was using her, toying with her, delighting in giving her pleasure but not that ultimate, final release that she badly wanted. She was wholly dependent on him and he knew it. And trusting him, she submitted to his will.

But it could not last. Steed broke the kiss and rose above her on the flats of his hands. He reached down, using his fingers to spread her wide and guide himself in. He entered her in two thrusts, plunging as deep as he could go. She cried out at the finality of penetration, the feel of him finally within her, and he withdrew and plunged again. Her wrists pulled at the cuffs, hands twisting against the metal. The combination of the intense pleasure of every stroke and the bruising pull of the metal on her skin was intoxicating. Steed was intoxicating, the smell of his sweat, the power of his body, the hardness inside of her, the guttural, animal noises he made as he thrust hard into her. He shifted within her at her encouragement until he struck that one spot that sent white electrical charges up and down her body, separating her from the earth. A hand slid between them and rubbed her clitoris as he withdrew and thrust again.

“Cry out for me, Emma,” he said. “Let me hear you.”

It was a demand. He knew only he gave her this pleasure, that only he ever did this for her. He was claiming her and she burned to be claimed. He drove into her again.

“Let me hear you.”

He was begging too, begging to know that he pleased her.

Her wrists twisted, her ankles pulled at the restraints. Confused thoughts spread through her mind, then everything grew momentarily clear.

It was more than trust, more than dependence. It was an exchange, willful and total. Steed would save her when she needed to be saved. He would kill for her. He would possess her only because she gave him everything willingly. He was her partner, her friend, her lover. He could have anything he wanted because she would give it to him. Because she knew he’d give her everything in return.

She didn’t need to be told to cry out. The orgasm was unlike any she’d experienced before. It surged over her in a wave, engulfing her. She screamed, and it was cry she'd never heard from her own throat. She had a confused notion of Steed becoming a part of her, of absorbing or being absorbed by him, incorporated into him. Then stars danced before her closed eyes, blood rushed into her head and she was transported far beyond anything she’d ever known or felt.

She did not know if he came, though he must have. As it ended and she became aware of being back on the bed, she felt him slip out of her. She heard the gentle click of the handcuffs being unlocked. Her arms lowered, aching wrists freed. One foot was untied and she rolled over, reaching for Steed. She caught him before he could free the other foot and pulled him into a trembling embrace, taking in his scent and the warm skin beneath her own sweating palms. A sudden wash of coldness came over her and her skin rose in goosebumps.

“Are you all right?” he asked, stroking her back.

She nodded, though with her rather violent trembling she understood why he might be worried.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, holding her hands, and she saw the honest concern in his grey eyes.

“No.” She ran her hand down his body, delighted at being able to touch him again.“I liked it."

He leaned down far enough to release her other foot, then brought himself back up against her, both of them reclining against the pillows at the headboard. They remained there for a few minutes, breaths calming. She listened to his heart beating against her ear.

He laced his fingers into hers, examining the red marks from the handcuffs. His brows drew together and eyes met hers in both a question and an apology.

“I’m all right, Steed,” she said.

He pressed his lips to the bruises. “I never want to hurt you.”

“I know. Thank you, Steed.”

She hoped that he understood. He smiled gently and held up the handcuffs.

“Yours, I believe,” he said.

Emma took them, handling the still cold metal. Her eyes met his. Calm, kind grey eyes, tinged by sadness. She closed her hand around the little metal discs.

She wondered how it would ever be possible to give him up. She wondered if that day would ever come, or if this trust, cemented between them in so many different ways – both in and out of bed - would simply carry on forever. She did not put a word to it – it was a word she avoided – but she knew that there would never be anything like it with another man. 

Emma wanted to say something to let him know that she was grateful. She wanted to ask him what he thought and felt but she could not quite form the words.

“You know,” Steed said, interrupting her thought process. “They do … have them lined.”

“Have what lined?”

“Handcuffs. You can … get them lined. So that they don’t bite like that.”

“How exactly do you know that, Steed?”

He cleared his throat. “An agent for the British government has to know these things, my dear.”

She began to laugh. She covered her mouth to try to stifle it, but she couldn’t stop. Then Steed was laughing too.

Emma wrapped her arms and legs around him and pressed her face into his neck and they lay there, laughing together.

"So," she said, recovering after a time. "That was new."

Steed nodded. "We'll have to try it again sometime."

"Is there anything ... you'd like to try?"

One corner of his mouth rose in a smile. "Now that you mention it, Mrs. Peel ..."


End file.
